Slave Auction
by SilVeR-EyeS-93
Summary: Draco knew that the concept of Slytherins giving to charity was doomed from the beginning. A very bad idea. Which is why, when he is temporarily sold off to Harry Potter to raise money, he is a little more than unhappy. H/D Slash


Authors note: I know, I know, don't hate me! I _am_ finishing Unusual Fears. This is just a bit of fun and because I really just needed something good to happen right now. This will be in maybe 3 parts, or 4. It's just humour, nothing dark or a punishing slave/owner piece. Oh and as with all my things, it is in first person narrative. Just light fiction-y...fluff. Also, un-beta-ed so any mistakes are my own!

J.K. Rowling owns all of these characters and I made no profit from this story. Unfortunately.

Happy Reading!

Slave Auction part 1 of 3

There were some things that one should always say no to.

Would you like to become a Death Eater Draco? No, because contrary to popular belief, I actually like my life.

Do you want to go to a bar and get pissed Draco? No, drunken dancing on tables at Hogsmeade bars is not for Purebloods. Mostly.

Would you like to become part of the House Fundraising task and endure something so humiliating that you will still be feeling the mental scarring for years to come Draco?

I should have said no. Every single molecule of my being knows that now, at the exact moment when it's too late to go and do anything about it.

All I can do is hate Blaise for coming up with this, hate my housemates for going along with it and choke on my own self loathing.

There is no getting out of this. I am screwed.

The Great Hall is buzzing with excitement of course. All of the other House tables are whispering and calling to each other, checking money bags and grinning heartily. Bastards.

"You gonna' eat tha' Dray?" Quicker that I can snatch it back, Blaise has hooked my Yorkshire pudding off my plate and onto his own. It is done with enough skill that no gravy drips onto the table cloth but not enough that I can't jab him in the hand with my fork.

His hand whipped back like he'd been burnt and I managed to feel a surge of vindictive pleasure. It may be McGonagall's fault for coming up with this scheme but Blaise was the one who invented the stupid idea for our house.

"Ow! What's the matter with you?"

The metaphorical daggers I was shooting at him from out of my eyes should have been enough, but apparently were not.

"What's the matter with _me_?" I asked dangerously.

"Oh. This again." He tucked into my Yorkshire pudding looking very complacent. "You're part of it now so there's no going back. You said yes when I asked you –"

"Because I didn't realise it would be like this!" I fingered my stupid 'slave identification badge ', or as Theo called it 'the emblem of humiliation', with irritation.

Looking back, I was an utter idiot for not foreseeing this, but when Blaise had asked if I wanted to be involved in the Slytherin House Slave Auction I hadn't thought I would be one of the poor sods being _sold_. I thought it would just be organising it, putting up posters and getting the word around.

Too bad the world hates me.

"We're all in this together Draco honey," Pansy said cheerily, displaying very clearly that we were not all in this together. If Pansy had been feeling one iota of my mortification she wouldn't be wearing that stupid grin on her face.

Unlike Theo and myself, who were both wearing looks of complete resign and disgust, everyone else at our table was annoyingly bouncy. Goyle was actually smiling, for God's sake.

"Oh and I got you something by the way," Pansy said, wiping her fingers on a napkin so she could rummage through a bag under the table. "As a keepsake."

She stuffed a piece of crumpled paper into my hand, grinning like the unhinged person I was beginning to suspect she was.

"Go on, take a look!"

_Why me?_ I thought bitterly as I unfurled the parchment and felt my heart sink an extra few notches.

It was a picture of me that I had posed for two weeks ago, just when this nightmare of an idea was being formed. I had heavy conjured manacles wrapped around my wrists and a board with my 'slave number' or whatever the fuck Blaise called it, held up.

I hoped this was as close to a real mug shot as I would ever get.

As the photo began on loop, my face wore a deeply unimpressed look. That was directed at Blaise holding the camera, begging me to smile or at least not look like I wanted to kill myself. What can I say? The camera never lies.

Just as the cycle is about to repeat however, my eyes fix on something to the left of the camera and a muscle at the corner of my mouth jerks upwards. My mouth twitches into a full Slytherin smirk.

"Remember what you were grinning at?" Pansy asks with a matching smirk.

"Yeah," I said moodily, slowly ripping the poster down the middle. "The first year trying to put manacles on Theo's wrists."

"Is he out of the hospital wing yet?" she asked, sounding interested.

"I doubt it. I've never seen anyone grow antlers quite as large as that before." I folded the two halves of the parchment, intent on ripping them again. Pansy snatched them from me.

"Hey!" she repaired them with her wand and twitched it out of my reach. "One day we will all look back on this and laugh. There's no need to get angry now."

No need to get angry?

"Pansy in under half an hour I am getting sold off, probably to a Gryffindor. Malfoy's don't do servitude."

"It's only for three days Draco, don't be such a drama queen."

"But to a Gryffindor it might as well be a year. A Gryffindor! They'll have me carrying bags and walking through breakfast naked and – "

I stopped when I saw her giggling quietly into her hand.

"_Stop_ _laughing_!"

"I'm sorry Draco sweetheart, but, your...expression!"

If my expression was anywhere near how I was feeling, people would be running for their lives.

"And how are you so calm, then? You're up for sale too and at a very generous starting bid. What if someone like Smith buys you?" I sent Zacharias Smith a look that said 'die'.

Pansy sent me a smile that could melt many a cold heart. Not mine though. I may be cold but I'm also immune to the Parkinson charm. "Because, Draco, I have a little faith in my fellow school mates. I'll be bought by a good person, I can tell."

I snorted with derision. "Look at this." I pulled my poster back onto the table top and read the caption underneath aloud. It was a stupid piece of writing anyway, Blaise's way of being 'amusing'.

"_Has _Draco Malfoy_ ever pissed you off? Perhaps you want payback for some ancient grudge left unsettled? At dinner on Friday 14th, Slytherin house will be holding a Slave auction in aid of the Hogwarts rebuilding fund. The bidding for _Draco Malfoy_ begins at twenty galleons – remember, this is in aid of charity. _Malfoy_ and fourteen other housemates will be on sale, to be purchased for a maximum of three days. The guidelines and rules of this event will be established at the time of purchase_."

"That's not so bad," Pansy said, doing that damn smile again.

I gaped at her. "_Payback for some ancient grudge unsettled_? That will be everyone who plays Quidditch, everyone with ginger hair, and all the mudbloods. Oh and _all of the Gryffindors_!"

Pansy snorted but otherwise returned to eating her dessert.

"And have you seen what he's put down for my assets?" I jabbed the parchment angrily with my finger. "_Attractive rating_: 9/10 – any witch would love to have this Pureblood prince on her arm. Be the envy of all your friends!_ Intelligence rating_: above average – would you rather go to Quidditch practice than finish your essay? Have Draco do it! _Physical fitness rating:_ 8/10 – have Draco do push ups for your pleasure alone!"

I slammed my fist onto the table so hard that it knocked my cup of juice over. "It makes me sound like – like an action figurine or something!" _Not_ that I knew about muggle toys at all. I was just...generalising.

"You only got a four out of ten for your ability to get on well with others?" Pansy asked curiously, thankfully glossing over the figurine part in favour of licking chocolate sauce off her spoon with relish. "Even Theo got higher than that."

"What's Theo's starting bid?"

"Fifteen galleons."

"And yours?"

"The same. You're worth more money because you've pissed off nearly everyone in this place, in one way or another. Everyone's going to want a piece."

Fucking great. This was just my luck.

"I want to die," I mumbled into my hands, wondering absently if I would be able to drown myself in the small pot of gravy. Owned for three whole days by one of my malicious peers? My eyes skittered around the Great Hall, feeling suddenly sick when a third year Hufflepuff girl giggled and blew me a kiss. Please not her. Please.

There was a chinking sound of metal on glass as McGonagall stood up. I gripped hard onto the edge of the table, reminding myself repeatedly that Malfoy's _did not_ run away. Blaise was grinning so hard I wanted to Crucio him.

"If I can please have your attention," the old bat was saying. As she droned on and on about inter-house unity, and possibly something to do with mutual respect, I dropped my head wearily onto Pansy's shoulder. Trust McGonagall to draw out the anguish. "...And so I pass you over to Mr Blaise Zabini, as he will explain the Slytherin fundraising event. The, ahem, _slave_ _auction_."

Amidst the polite clapping I tried not to dwell on how Blaise had managed to convince McGonagall that a slave auction was a good idea. The tense look on her face seemed to suggest she was regretting it. Blaise however could not have looked more pleased with himself.

"Headmistress," he said, standing up and affecting a short bow in her direction. "Fellow students." A much more elaborate bow, with flourishing hands and a wolfish grin. I groaned a little into Pansy's shirt. "With such charming and competitive fundraising events from each house, my fellow seventh years and I have been wondering what we could possibly do to get your money and thoroughly _deserve_ it."

There were speculative murmurs and even a few wolf whistles in Blaise's direction.

"He deserves a slap," I muttered venomously, still clinging onto Pansy.

"So we decided that the only thing wonderful enough that we can possibly give you was _ourselves_. Fifteen people in all their Slytherin glory, for you to purchase for a maximum of three days."

There was no denying the ripple of interest flowing in and around the Great Hall now. Just seeing people ogling Blaise made me cringe.

"To keep you from having _too_ much fun," Blaise then had the audacity to wink at the very Hufflepuff girl I was trying to avoid, "we have come up with the three basic rules. One," he held up a demonstrative finger, "you cannot do anything to potentially harm your Slytherin. For example, Theodore Nott would not be permitted to walk off the Astronomy Tower." The laughter was egged on by the magnitude of Theo's glare.

"Secondly," he said loudly, holding up another finger, "You can't use your Slytherin for sex."

I looked around just in time to see McGonagall's mouth drop open and Snape close his eyes in despair. Trying not to feel hot under the collar at the amount of groans and booing the second rule had got, I exchanged a hopeless expression with Theo.

"For example!" Blaise shouted over the hype, "I _could_ ask Pansy to shag me," I felt Pansy twitch irritably, "but the likely response I'll get is a slap. Kissing, holding hands and whatnot is allowed but please try to be _kind_ to our volunteers."

I highly suspected that the reason for Blaise's perpetual grin was the fact that he wasn't one of the unlucky sods being sold to anyone with galleons.

"The third rule is that you are not permitted to order your Slytherin to do anything illegal. No buying alcohol for younger students, no murdering teachers, no robbing Gringotts etcetera."

The fact that I probably wouldn't go to prison over this horrendous ordeal made me think only little better of it.

"And now ladies and gentlemen if you'd turn your attention to the top table, we will begin our auction!"

Pansy, Theo and I got wearily to our feet, joined by others at various other points of the table. It was almost unbearably embarrassing to have to walk up to the top table and stand before it, waiting as Blaise conjured a wooden hammer and fished out his list.

Standing in between a tiny fifth year boy and Pansy, it was easy to see how Blaise thought this would be a money spinner. People were shouting, standing up and whistling at us. While my Malfoy mask was firmly in place, Pansy had adopted a world weary expression of drawn out suffering.

"Our first lot: Mr Gregory Goyle!"

Goyle lumbered forward easily onto the conjured platform and tried for a shifty smile. It was actually quite remarkable how much fat had dropped off Greg over the summer to reveal sheer hulking muscle. I had even caught Pansy ogling him a few times.

"Marked with just a ten galleon starting bid, Greg here is _very_ reasonably priced. Good for a carrying your bag to and from classes, or even _you_ to and from classes! Look at those muscles ladies – imagine having those arms at your disposal!"

Greg flexed his muscles demonstratively and I felt Pansy give a little shudder or mock-lust. Well...I certainly hoped it wasn't real. It seemed sometimes like I was the only supporter for Pansy to have a relationship with Blaise, even though I was currently filled with churning hatred for him.

"We'll start the bidding at ten galleons!"

Girls of all years (even, to my surprise, vivacious little first years) began shouting at Blaise, cries of "twenty galleons!" and "I'll throw in my best quill!" echoing around the hall. Blaise, to his credit, took it in his stride and began pointing out the highest bidders, working the crowd into frenzy.

When Goyle had finally been sold (for an impressive twenty three galleons and five sickles) the delighted fourth year bobbed up to the front to collect her prize. At this, Pansy, Theo and I leaned forwards. This was the part Blaise had been reluctant to share with us.

"If you'll just sign here my lady," Blaise said, offering up a contract stating the rules and something in tiny writing we could only speculate upon, "Gregory Goyle is officially yours!"

The girl signed quickly and Blaise slipped two heavy looking bracelets from out of his pocket and onto Greg's wrists. "I now pronounce you Slave and Owner!"

The bottom dropped out of my stomach.

"We have to wear _manacles_?" I hissed furiously to Pansy. "Nobody said anything about that! What do you think they're for?"

"Dramatic effect?" Pansy asked with a shrug, though her eyes were also riveted upon the bracelets. "He wouldn't have put a charm on them."

Blaise tapped them with his wand, making the dull grey metal shine bright blue.

"...Or not," I muttered bitterly. I drove my hands firmly into my pockets and glared at everybody. Maybe if I looked surly enough, nobody would buy me. Fat chance.

The Ravenclaw fourth years were all laughing delightedly as the giggling girl who owned Greg asked courageously to sit on his lap for the remainder of the evening. I hoped to Merlin I wasn't purchased by someone equally needy.

Ernie McMillan bought a churlish looking fifth year, smiling smugly as he signed his name. The boy – whose name was something like Anthony, Andy or Andrew – looked resigned to his fate. He only rolled his eyes when McMillan laughed and made him sit on the floor beside the Hufflepuff table. My eyes narrowed at the petty treatment. Was that allowed? It was humiliating, to be sat on the dusty floor beside your peers.

Seconds later I snorted to myself. What was the point of this little game _except_ humiliation?

The first girl of the evening to be sold went for twenty nine galleons to a tiny second year Gryffindor boy, his eyes wide with accomplishment as his peers slapped him on the back. She left our dwindling Slytherin group with good grace and went to receive the bracelets from Blaise.

Hannah Abbott bought Theo, blushing furiously, and made room for his to sit beside her at the Hufflepuff table. With every new sale my heartbeat seemed to quicken a little more, nervous and irritable almost to breaking point. I didn't _want_ to be sold. I liked having my freedom. After the Dark Lord was killed, one never underestimated the value of independence again.

"Theo's caught a nice one," Pansy murmured, drawing my attention to the covert looks Hannah continued to shoot at Theo out of the corner of her eye. "I'm glad she bought him. Oh look, it should be my turn soon."

"Worried?" I asked nonchalantly, pretending to examine the hem of my robes.

"Not at all," she replied with a smug smile. She leant in close to my ear and whispered "You'll see in a minute I suppose but...Marcus promised to buy me."

"_Flint_?"

"Shh! Yes, he did. We have an agreement." She winked at me and I felt like gagging. "Not that kind of agreement! Well actually..."

"Aghh – Pansy! With _him_? Why not Blaise?"

Her nose wrinkled and she pushed me a little, seeming grossed out. "Stop trying to push us together Draco, it's disgusting. It would be as weird as _you_ and Blaise." She paused as a great swell of noise came out of the crowd, Blaise having opened up a new lot for a willowy looking sixth year girl. "Actually, no, you would be quite hot together."

"God I know," I said huskily, making her laugh. In truth, Blaise's dark and masculine charms were not my type at all. I preferred the more rugged attractiveness to compliment my elegance, a brunette to clash against my blond, and someone outspoken enough for a good argument. Good luck finding that here though.

Blaise interrupted my musings. "Ladies and Gentlemen, please allow me to introduce lot number 11 – Miss Pansy Parkinson!"

Pansy waggled her fingers at me and then hopped up besides Blaise onto the platform. I wondered how she looked so utterly relaxed, even in the supposed knowledge that Flint would buy her. My hands clenched at the thought of him laying even one finger on her.

"...You will also notice the excellent Pureblood bone structure and natural grace that Pansy possesses. In addition, this feisty witch has an exceptional brain behind that sleek head of hair and will happily complete your boring Arithmancy essays. The bidding starts at just fifteen galleons."

There was a lull in which the hall was silent, before somebody from Hufflepuff shouted "Twenty galleons!"

The frenzy of shouting once again took hold and I distantly heard Marcus Flint add a weedy "_Twenty_?" Pansy looked expectantly at him, her shoulders suddenly tense. "Alright fine, twenty five!"

"I'll give thirty!"

I almost choked on my own laughter as Zacharias Smith stood up, brandishing his money bag aloft. Pansy looked like she could vomit. Both she and I turned expectantly on Flint, I amused and she murderous.

"Um...thirty five galleons?" He asked half-heartedly. I could feel Blaise's distain, the crowd's glee and Pansy's betrayal. I crossed my fingers in the pocket of my robes. At least I would get a laugh out of the evening if she was bought by –

"Sold to Mr Smith of Hufflepuff for forty galleons!"

I clapped along with everyone else as Pansy was manacled, quite glad I was not on the receiving end of the glare she gave Smith. It was an even worse one that she gave to Blaise however, as he turned the grey bracelets a bright metallic blue.

I cringed for her, both mentally and physically, as Smith (after looking over at Greg and his tiny Ravenclaw girl) asked her sycophantically to sit on his lap.

Blaise turned around and nodded to me and my head felt suddenly very dizzy.

"And now for lot number twelve, Mr Draco Malfoy!"

This was it then. Goodbye cruel, vengeful world. I shall miss the sound of the birds singing and Slytherins torturing Gryffindors. Oh fuck.

I stood upon the platform, feeling the eyes of the whole student body upon me. It was like being naked, my mind supplied dazedly, naked and having everyone stare at you.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if you like having a bad boy on your arm, Draco is the one for you." I met Blaise's wink with a scathing look and the audience laughed. I tried to fight down the brush that seemed to be spreading up my neck. I could _do_ this damn it.

"Fashionably dressed, a witty conversationalist and fiercely intelligent, our Draco is more than just a pretty face." I tried desperately hard not to blush as Blaise indicated for me to turn around. _Why do they need to see what I look like from the back?_ I wondered irritably until Blaise said loudly, "and a nice bum on him too – sorry Headmistress!"

There was much catcalling at this remark, especially from the Gryffindor table, which I tuned out to protect my ego.

"Whether you use this grouchy but incredibly attractive man to butter your toast or make your boyfriend jealous, we are offering you three whole days of a Draco Malfoy that no one but you will ever see again. Think on that, fellow students."

Before I could stop him, Blaise's hand had whipped over and yanked up my top a few inches.

"And also think of those Quidditch toned abs! The bidding for lot number twelve starts at twenty galleons."

"Twenty five!" Yelled Susan Bones, and I blinked in surprise.

"Thirty!" Yelled Colin Creevy, at which point I had to close my eyes at the horror of it all.

"Thirty five! _I want him_!" Yelled a female voice of whom I was absolutely sure I didn't want to know the owner of.

"Forty!"

"Forty five!"

"_Fifty galleons_!" It was getting crazy now and Blaise seemed to know it. He attempted to whip up my shirt again, probably hoping a girl would go insane and turn over her Gringotts volt to us - I prevented him.

"It's for charity," he said through gritted teeth and yanked it out of my protesting grip.

The girls screamed, the guys cheered and Blaise beamed at the madness of it all. I just felt light headed.

"Sixty galleons!"

"Sixty five!"

I had never before realised how many boys hated me and how many of the girls fancied me. _Sixty five galleons_ to have _me_ as a slave? Were they all crazy?

But, as always, it seemed I had forgotten about one crucial person. My eyes screwed shut and my heart stopped as one voice rang out above the rest. The boy who had been ruining my life since we were both eleven years old was determined to do what he did best: humiliate me.

"I'll pay one hundred galleons!"

Potter's open arms and shining eyes screamed victory, Pansy's loud whimper echoed around my head and the Great Hall fell into a deadly silence.

And that is how I became a slave to Harry Potter.

~O~

To be continued! Cast your vote on what Harry's first vicious act of ownership will be – as sweet, sexy or silly as you please! XD


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